A Wall Street Genius's Final Investment Playbook-Chapter 73

The day of the business trip.

At 6 a.m., I met Pierce at LaGuardia Airport.

Epicura’s headquarters was located in Florida. It was a three-hour flight from New York—close enough.

The trip was a same-day affair, departing early in the morning and returning by afternoon.

“Do you prefer a window or aisle seat?”

“Aisle.”

The boarding process was exhausting, to say the least.

I had to stand in line both at the check-in counter and the boarding gate.

‘Right, I’d forgotten about this.’

I had completely forgotten that boarding a flight was essentially a series of waits.

No wonder—it’s been a while since I’ve used a commercial airline.

In my past life, I mostly flew on private jets.

Not my own, of course, but one owned by the hedge fund CEO I worked for.

It was a perk reserved for the PM (Portfolio Manager) with the highest performance.

My time was money.

Back then, people would line up to pay thousands or tens of thousands of dollars just to save a few hours of my time…

But things are different now.

On paper, I’m just a low-level new hire.

“Whew…”

Once aboard the plane, I sighed again.

The seats were absurdly cramped.

They didn’t look particularly cushioned either.

Still, I couldn’t exactly stand for the entire flight, so I begrudgingly sat down.

But the legroom was far from satisfactory.

‘Seriously, what’s the point of being Gold status if it’s this bad?’

Not even First Class—just Business Class.

“It used to be First. They downgraded it to save costs this year.”

I turned my head to see Pierce grinning.

“You look like you’ve got a lot of complaints.”

“No, I’m just tired.”

“Were you so wealthy that even Business Class feels beneath you?”

‘What a sharp one.’

Pierce’s specialty was reading faces.

He had a natural talent for deciphering emotions—a walking lie detector.

Every time he exploited a moment of carelessness to read me like this, it left me irritated.

“May I see the materials?”

“Materials” referred to all documents presented to clients.

Every document I drafted had to pass Pierce’s scrutiny—that was the condition of my participation in this project.

Flip, flip.

Pierce meticulously reviewed the documents.

It seemed he was worried I might have slipped in something risky.

“There’s a discrepancy from what you showed me yesterday.”

“I added footnotes and appendices.”

“Why?”

“To prepare for any unforeseen situations. The more references, the better.”

Pierce continued flipping through the materials for a while but seemed to find nothing suspicious.

After setting the booklet down, he tapped the cover lightly with his fingers before speaking.

“To be honest, I was hoping you might uncover a clue to the mystery.”

The mystery.

In other words, the real reason the CEO was pursuing a sale before the shareholder meeting.

He wanted to know the identity of the time bomb I had uncovered.

“Is that so?”

“Have you found any leads?”

I had.

But I couldn’t reveal them to Pierce.

‘I won’t let him steal it.’

If I told him now, he’d undoubtedly present it to the CEO on my behalf.

Even if he credited me as the source, it wouldn’t be an optimal outcome for me.

If a soldier wants to become a general, they must earn the king’s favor and trust directly.

Having someone else deliver the results would dilute the impact.

“I’m not sure.”

“…”

Pierce stared at me silently for a moment before letting out a sigh and speaking again.

“This case is different from the deals you’ve handled so far.”

His voice carried a serious tone.

“This is a highly sensitive matter. A careless word or action could complicate the situation, so I’m imposing strict restrictions on your speaking rights. Only speak if the client directly addresses you.”

In other words, I was to stay silent unless the client explicitly called out, “Hey, analyst!”

For reference, such a thing rarely happens.

To clients, analysts are no more than monkeys carrying stacks of papers.

“Understood.”

“I mean it. If you break this rule, you’ll be immediately removed from the project.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Of course, I had no intention of staying quiet.

I needed to find a way to catch the CEO’s attention, no matter what.

Epicura’s headquarters was a grand and modern building.

Upon our arrival, a secretary guided us to the main conference room.

It was a spacious room with a long conference table that could easily seat twenty people, yet—

“You’ll remain standing in the back.”

Pierce instructed me to stand.

This was his way of cutting off any possibility of direct interaction between me and the CEO.

A CEO wouldn’t start a conversation with a subordinate standing in the background, let alone one not seated at eye level.

Five minutes passed.

A well-built Black man strode confidently into the room.

It was Whitmer, Epicura’s CEO.

Whitmer was one of the rare Black CEOs in the United States.

Out of the Fortune 500 companies, only five had Black CEOs, and he was one of them.

This detail, incidentally, was a crucial clue in this case—although, for now, it was just a hypothesis.

“There’s an investor meeting scheduled in an hour. Let’s move quickly.”

Whitmer glanced at his watch and urged us to get to the point.

I handed out the prepared materials and quietly took my place behind Pierce.

Throughout the process, Whitmer didn’t glance my way even once.

Not that it mattered.

For now, it was better to observe the situation.

As long as they didn’t see me as a threat, I could gather as much information as possible—about Whitmer’s personality, Pierce’s negotiation tactics, and the dynamics between the two.

It would be advantageous for me to act after understanding all of these factors.

As I was lost in thought, the meeting began.

The first agenda was a reverse-engineering battle.

“Medallian’s proposal presents overly optimistic figures. If you refer to page five…”

In simple terms, this part of the meeting was about explaining how we countered the opponent’s calculations.

While it seemed like a critical topic, it wasn’t significant in practice.

Shareholders don’t base their decisions on these materials.

They ultimately decide based on their personal inclinations. These documents merely serve as tools to rationalize pre-made conclusions.

Since it was a formal procedure, the discussion quickly concluded.

And then—

“It’s best to postpone signing the definitive agreement until after the shareholder meeting.”

Pierce went straight to the point.

The definitive agreement refers to the final contract that seals the deal.

Epicura had been working on selling Harbor Lobster for months.

They’d already found a suitable buyer, and the due diligence process was in its final stages.

All that was left was to sign the definitive agreement, but Pierce suggested delaying it as much as possible.

“There’s no particular benefit to signing the contract before the shareholder meeting. It’s wiser to complete all procedures and finalize the sale in one swift move afterward.”

Once the definitive agreement is signed, the deal becomes irreversible.

Additionally, the company would be obligated to notify all shareholders about the sale.

In other words, Pierce’s advice was akin to this:

Don’t reveal your cards to voters right before an election.

However, Whitmer firmly shook his head.

“The shareholders are already aware that we’re pursuing a sale. It was disclosed at the board approval stage.”

This meant the shareholders had already seen Whitmer’s hand.

“That wasn’t a finalized decision. You could simply say it’s still under review, with other alternatives being considered.”

In essence, this was suggesting to bluff, saying the raised hand was merely a stretch.

“Do you think the shareholders would believe that?”

“Even so, it’s the better course of action. Otherwise, you’ll need to brace for potential dismissal.”

“I’m fully aware of that risk.”

Despite the warnings, Whitmer was resolute.

He insisted on completing the sale before the shareholder meeting.

Pierce frowned and asked pointedly,

“Is there such an urgent reason that the sale must be finalized immediately?”

“There’s nothing of the sort.”

But Whitmer still refused to disclose any information.

Pierce, wearing a cold smile, responded:

“There’s an old saying: the cover-up is often worse than the crime.”

I involuntarily held my breath.

Crime?

The choice of words was far too bold.

Whitmer’s expression briefly showed surprise, but he quickly regained his composure and retorted,

“That’s a bit of an overstatement.”

“My apologies. I was merely trying to use an analogy, but my example was inappropriate. My point was simply that the greater the risk, the wiser it is to entrust the matter to experts.”

It was a precarious way of speaking, full of calculated intent.

Pierce had deliberately used the provocative term crime to gauge Whitmer’s reaction.

He’s suspicious of a time bomb too, isn’t he?

It seemed Pierce shared my thoughts—that the CEO was rushing the sale of Harbor Lobster because it was a ticking time bomb.

There was undoubtedly some issue with Harbor Lobster, and Pierce seemed to believe it was tied to illegal activities.

He likely concluded that the only reason Whitmer was so adamantly concealing the issue was because of its illicit nature.

“Every product has a tailored sales strategy. Even if there’s a serious defect, it doesn’t always need to be hidden. You could replace the faulty parts or lower the price for those specific parts to resolve the issue.”

At this point, Pierce’s gaze grew more intense.

“Furthermore, you can find buyers whose needs align with the defect. Some people buy cars to drive them, while others might only want a single part. Even a near-junk vehicle can sell without issue if you connect it with the right buyer.”

The comparison sounded like something a used car dealer might say, but combined with the earlier mention of crime, it came off as chilling.

In essence, he was implying that even illegal issues could be laundered.

“The worst-case scenario is hiding the defect, selling it, and then having it exposed later.”

“…”

Whitmer remained silent for a long time.

Eventually, he let out a long sigh and spoke, but it wasn’t the answer Pierce was seeking.

“There’s nothing wrong with Harbor Lobster. To borrow your analogy, it’s not a near-junk car—it’s simply an old model I want to replace. I just want to avoid the hassle of sharks circling, so I’m moving faster.”

Whitmer dismissed the speculation of criminal involvement, repeating that the sale was simply due to the brand’s age.

But Pierce wasn’t convinced.

If that were truly the case, there’d be no need for such urgency.

“If you’re hiding something from me, that’s a betrayal of trust. As Swanson may have told you, I never work with someone who loses my trust.”

It was a statement brimming with confidence.

Most investment banking MDs would grovel to clients, desperate to secure deals.

Yet Pierce was effectively threatening to blacklist Whitmer instead.

I could see why Pierce was so bold.

Not many people specialize in covering up crimes.

Most MDs would steer clear of deals with potential legal risks.

But it seemed Pierce’s expertise lay precisely in handling such transactions.

Whitmer must have found this predicament difficult to navigate.

The possibility of unintentional legal entanglements always looms, and if Pierce refused to help at a crucial moment, Whitmer would have no alternatives.

“For the last time, is there an urgent reason you need to rush the sale of Harbor Lobster?”

“…”

The question was practically an ultimatum.

Yet Whitmer still refused to answer, leaving the conference room heavy with silence.

Well, I think I’ve seen enough.

I felt I had gathered sufficient insights into the CEO’s personality, Pierce’s negotiation tactics, and the dynamics between the two.

It was time for me to step forward.

First, I needed to secure the right to speak.

As per Pierce’s rule, I could only speak if the CEO directly addressed me.

So far, Whitmer hadn’t looked my way even once.

But getting his attention wouldn’t be difficult. freēwēbηovel.c૦m

Thud!

I deliberately dropped the briefcase I was holding. Both men’s eyes immediately turned to me.

“My apologies.”

“Be careful.”

Pierce’s sharp eyes glinted.

His suspicion that I might pull something was evident in his gaze.

But he couldn’t keep watching me forever. I was standing behind him, after all. To monitor me, he’d have to turn his back on the client, which was impractical.

Pierce soon resumed facing forward, and I seized the moment.

I bit my lip, ensuring my expression was etched with silent determination.

Now.

I made my face practically scream, I have a different opinion!

Whitmer was under immense pressure from Pierce’s ultimatum and needed time to gather his thoughts and make a prudent decision.

Seeing a junior employee with an eager expression, seemingly bursting with something to say, would likely catch his attention.

To a CEO, an analyst is no more than a monkey.

But in a crisis, even a monkey’s paw might seem helpful.

“What do you think?”

Got him.

Whitmer suddenly directed his question at me.

I’d successfully secured the right to speak.

But at this point, it was better to formally seek permission.

After all, there was no telling if Pierce might lose his temper and forcibly kick me out, rules or no rules.

I turned to Pierce and formally sought his approval.

“May I share my opinion?”